Nightingale Cliché
by Myrile
Summary: Snape growing up with his little sister Kyran. no i havent updated in almost a year but i lost all of my rough drafts for the next chapters and the polt outline so it's rather upsetting.
1. hide

Nightingale Cliché 

Author's Note: This story is a cliché. It's just one big Romeo and Juliet story. If you read this then don't bother telling me it's a cliché, I already told you that.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the HP characters nor am I making money off of this

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The five year old boy that cringed in the corner behind the door had dark oily hair and black burning eyes. His knees where tucked up against his chest and his small grimy hands were wrapped around them as though if he let go he would die. He heard shouting coming from the other room. "Who do you think you re, saying that to me?" the woman's voice, his mother's voice, was shrill, almost desperate. Don't hit her, the child thought, please don't hit her. The door burst open, almost hitting him. He crouched down further into the corner, hoping that his father wouldn't see him. His father did see him.

"Severus! Severus Snape get over here!" His father's face was red, frighteningly red, and his breath reeked of alcohol. Severus looked about for an escape rout but there was none. He slowly crept towards his father, muscles tense and rigid. "Why where you eavesdropping boy?" His son was mute. "You have no answer? I'm your father I expect and answer when I ask a question."

"I wasn't eavesdropping…" the sound of flesh hitting flesh resounded through out the room; his mother gave out a little gasp of shock and horror her eyes going wide. Somewhere upstairs a small child began to cry unheard, unthought-of.

"Liar." His father's face was white now, livid. "Don't you ever lie to me boy."

"Tobias!" his mother sounded shocked. "Shame on you, hitting your own son." Her husband turned on her. She cowered back, shoulders hunched, arms clenched over her stomach.

"You're reprimanding me you worthless whore! Why do I even bother with this boy? He's probably not even mine!" The boy's mother just cowered back further, not saying anything, not denying it. "He's probably just some filthy bastard whose fathers too much a cowered to come get him. He takes after that father. Look at him, the sniveling cowered." He kicked the boy with his foot. Sniveling cowered… Sniveling cowered… Sniveling cowered! The accusation rang itself in Serveus' head, like a bell growing louder and louder, imprinting itself in the boy's mind forever. And his beloved mother never denied it.

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The boy was eight and going on a walk with his little sister, Kyran, born just one year after him. The little girl's curly hair was black and shining in the summer sun. Her eyes, like her brother's, where black as well, but full of warmth and friendliness. She still remembered how to laugh, something her brother had forgotten long ago. And she's losing it too, her brother thought, she's losing it too. Up a head the stone house loomed ominously, filling the very air they where breather with hatred and violence. The front door was locked. Severus tugged at the handle in dismay. A bad feeling was welling up inside his chest. This was bad, he thought, this was very bad.

"We're home early." Little Kyran insisted, curls bobbing furiously. "We're home early. That's why the door isn't open." She grabbed her brother's hand. "That's all."

"Right," Severus said sarcastically, "and that's why all the blinds are drawn is it?"

"Yes," She nodded, "it's because we're home early."

Severus sighed. Sarcasm was lost on Kyran when she got like this. But he was starting to feel nervous. "I think I'll go and see if the back door is open. You stay right here, o.k.?" Kyran sat down on the step and nodded once. Severus started off around the house, through the tangled shrubs and long grass, sometimes tripping on an old scrap of metal or some other piece of junk. He was three quarters of the way around the house and covered in scratches when he heard a noise. It sounded like a human cry. He looked up at the house. One of the windows, a little ways in front of him was open a crack. He crept over to it but wasn't tall enough to see in. And something told him he had to see in. He ran to the back of the house and grabbed an old crate from among the junk scattered about. Dragging it back to the window, panting, he placed it beneath the window and climbed on top of it. The room inside was dark and neglected looking. It was lit by a single lamp that stood on small table in the middle of the room. The shadows of a man and woman danced angrily on the walls like two great demons. They where arguing, yelling. The woman yelled something, something the boy was not supposed to hear, but he heard it. His face going white, eyes opening wide with shock, chest heaving, struggling to get a clean breath out of the filthy air. The man raised his fist in rage. Inside the room there is a crash. A woman screams, a man laughs, the world is swirling, swirling. The boy is falling now. The last thing he sees a little girl with dark hair staring at him, her mouth opening in it's own scream of horror, her black eyes wide. The anguished scream of the woman, the horrified scream of the girl, and the mocking laughter of the man twine together until they are one sound, one cry defining life.

The boy awoke in a small room old, but clean. Near by Kyran sat curled up in an armchair. The only other furniture in the room was the bed he was lying on and a table, on which rested a lamp, book, and a plate of food. A pitcher of water and glass were at the foot of the chair.

"Kyran? Kyran, what happened?" he asked. The girl raised her head. Her eyes where red and bloodshot. Her lips trembled. Then she smiled.

"Oh, good, you're awake. I thought you would never wake up. Are you hungry? Or thirsty?" She picked up the pitched of water from the floor by her feet, her small arms shaking and straining. He shook his head, anger beginning to wake in him, slow and sluggish.

"Where's mom?" He glanced around worriedly. Kyran was giving him an odd look.

"We're not at home. A neighbor saw you fall and brought you over here with me." Kyran looked nervous, clenching and unclenching her hands, squirming, shifting from foot to foot.

"What's the matter?" Severus cautiously asked his sister.

"Father doesn't know we're here."


	2. safer

Authors Note: thank you for reviewing (hint hint) and if you have any info on how I could improve please tell me. If you don't like the story tell me why please. NICELY. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I don't own HP and am not making any money off of fic (I wish)

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Severus felt as though she had just shot him. He sat upright, the movement sending shock waves through his head. "He… he doesn't know…"

Kyran looked at him realization, and fear, growing on her small face. "Do you think he'll be mad?" she asked, her voice thin and quivery.

Severus shook his head. "It's not a question of him being angry. He's always angry. That only question is how angry." With that he clambered stiffly to his feet and, pulling Kyran along behind him, ran as fast as he could. Head spinning he stumbled over the broken pavement outside his house, staggered up the steps, and was about to knock on the door when in flew open. His father stood in the doorway and he was angry, as expected. But he was bad angry, very bad angry. Severus could feel Kyran shrink closer to him as they trembled in their father's shadow. Mr. Snape reached out, grabbed his children, and hauled them inside the house, slamming the door. Severus cringed back, is body rigid and tense. But it was Kyran his father turned on.

"How dare you take my son from this house? Who do you think you are? You're just some stupid slut, like you're mother!" He grabbed his daughter, lifting her up and pressing her against the wall, like a bug to be squashed. His fingers cut into her arms like knives, bruising. He shoved his red face up close to her, spraying her with spit when he spoke. Kyran's face was a yellowish white, her eyes wide and black. The man's looming shadow seamed to swallow her up and drain her of life. "Explain yourself!"

She twisted, squirming, trying futilely to move farther away from him. "I just thought… he was hurt… be safer-"

Almost in slow motion Severus saw the man's fist come crashing down. As if underwater he saw his sister's eyes widen, saw her head hit the wall, saw her crumple, saw her lips move but heard no sound. He turned his head away, blood running from his lip where he had bit through it, nails breaking as he ground them into his skin.

The woman in the doorway stared at him through a bruised face, her hands clutching at the door post. Her eyes were dark and sad, but the hurt, betrayed look in them was not directed at her husband. She looked at her son for just a second longer before turning to the man she once loved. Righteous anger seamed to fill her entire being. She raised a hand, pointing at Tobias. "You will never, never, strake my daughter again." Her eyes dared him to try. The man looked at her for one second. Then he laughed, mocking and careless. He turned, still laughing and walked away. Walked out of the room in a way only he could, each step so disdainful, just walking away from it all.

The woman moved slowly across the room, as though every bone in her body, every muscle was aching. She slowly knelt by the small crumpled body, her finger caressing the sweater she had knitted. Brushing back the tangled mass of black curls from the thin sickly face she whispered "Kyran?" The girl stared and Eleen Snape wrapped her arms around her daughter's thin torso, one arm cradling Kyran's head and shoulders, the other curling around to support the child's back. "Severus?" The boy looked up, wiping the water from his eyes. "Help me. Take her legs, please." He nodded. His fingers clenched the dirty ragged material of his sister's skirt. Quietly, like shy animals in a strange forest, the whispered through the house to Kyran's bedroom. After lying her down on the narrow bed and twitching the worn coverlet up around her his mother slumped down at the foot of the bed and raised her right hand to him to come to her. Rabbit like he came and she pulled him down into her lap, stroking the matted hair only she called beloved.

"I'm sorry." He choked out, the tears he had hidden before making they're lonely way across his face.

AN: sorry it's short. I've got way too much school work right now.


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